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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29756886">the great eastern sun</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/getloud/pseuds/getloud'>getloud</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Haikyuu!!</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Canon Compliant, Character Study, Gen, Post-Time Skip, way too much description of brazil</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 23:20:46</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,868</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29756886</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/getloud/pseuds/getloud</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Heitor jokingly asked who Shouyou was rooting for, /Japão ou Brasil?/ Shouyou jokingly replied that he hadn’t kept up with any of the games.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Hinata Shouyou &amp; Kageyama Tobio, Hinata Shouyou &amp; Oikawa Tooru</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>42</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Haikyuu Writer Jukebox Round One - Mitski</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>the great eastern sun</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>i /definitely/ messed up with the timing somewhere in between so i hope it isn't too confusing as a whole. shouyou deserves so much more, but i hope u enjoy it regardless T-T &lt;3</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Volleyball is fun,” Oikawa-<em> san </em> told him (or so it seemed). </p><p>“Yeah,” Shouyou finally said, staring past the net, past their opponents, past the vast ocean filling the horizon. The Rio Shouyou knew appeared different that night. Maybe she, too, was slipping through her façade. “Volleyball is fun.”</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>◁◁ REWIND</b>
</p><p>“Are you sure about this, Hinata-<em> kun </em>? Just think about the finances, the uncertainty, let alone the loneliness that comes with moving abroad.” His homeroom teacher pointed the butt of their pen in his direction. “This is not a move to Tokyo or Osaka, but Brazil, a country on the other side of the world. I want you to think about this.” They emphasized. </p><p>“I’m aware, <em> Sensei </em>.” Shouyou replied.</p><p>“What about playing for a university? You’ve seen how many scouts contacted you this past month alone. Have you considered that? Kageyama-<em> kun </em>…” Shouyou rolled his eyes before interrupting.</p><p>“I have already discussed this with Coach and Takeda-<em> sensei </em>. I’m going to Rio.” </p><p>“Very well then.” His teacher said, aggressively clicking his pen then signing the document. </p><p> </p><p>The same topic was brought up that afternoon before practice. Both Tobio and Shouyou stood at their respective lockers, synchronously unbuttoning their uniforms. Silence rarely accompanied the two and they soon realized this, only one doing something about it. </p><p>“You’re not really going, are you?” Tobio asked, dropping his arms to his sides, leaving a button or two still attached to the other side of his shirt. </p><p>“What are you talking about?” Shouyou stood beside Tobio topless, not sparing him a glance. He distracted himself by folding his dress shirt thinly. He never cared for the appearance of his clothes. </p><p>“You know exactly what I’m talking about.” His tone was hushed, too small for the mass of bone and muscle next to Shouyou. Shouyou wasn’t sure if a draft blew into the room or if it was a bodily nip through his spin, but he quickly threw his practice jersey over his head. “Why beach volleyball? You can answer that at the very least.” </p><p>Hinata let out a sour laugh before replying, “You know me more than anyone Tobio, I’m selfish like that. I want to touch the ball the most.” </p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="u"> <b>ON GREED</b> </span>
</p><p>Both Tobio and Shouyou knew that Shouyou, deep down, wasn’t at all that greedy. </p><p>Molding his smooth, ivory hands into flushed fists for receiving, throbbing fingers curled for the perfect spike, pulsating forearms to match the other blockers’ height; laboring his milky legs until his calves protrude out of their skin, a fire burning in his mid-thigh, a bloody laceration on his knees when his bike chain slips from its place; gripping onto the net, with white knuckles, watching the other team rejoice, silently begging with his eyes, <em> one more chance, I want to stand here longer, I can prove that I am worthy </em>; lowering himself in front of coaches, teammates, opponents, and the King himself for a chance, to stand on the linoleum of the gym longer, to prove he was worthy. </p><p>It wasn’t greed that bubbled viciously in Shouyou’s golden eyes. He was surrendering himself to the harmony. The harmony that called for him each and every day.</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>Natsu refused to know the date of Shouyou’s departure. She left his farewell present on his bed, without remark, weeks before: a new leather wallet.</p><p>Shouyou had slipped into his room earlier than normal, the night before his morning flight to get as many hours of rest when he could. But, he couldn’t. It must’ve been right before midnight when he knocked on the door to Natsu’s room. </p><p>“Go away.” She said, voice lower than usual.</p><p>“Natsu. Could you toss to me one time before I go?” He asked, in an equally low voice. Before they knew it, they were out on the lawn, a small area illuminated by the flashlight saved in their mother’s emergency drawer specifically for power outages. Natsu’s tosses started off aggressive, forceful, and unwilling. </p><p>“Thank god I don’t have to deal with your nasty tosses anymore.” Shouyou joked innocently with a chuckle. </p><p>“You’ll find someone great, I’m sure. You were always lucky like that.” Shouyou wasn’t sure if it was just his freshly cut hair, that made him feel as if the world was significantly cooler. He drew his hood over his head. “You’re great at what you do, you have so many people that support you, so why? Why do you have to go?” Natsu’s shoulders bounced as she spoke, grip tight around their sun-greyed volleyball. Shouyou was grateful that he could only see her silhouette in the darkness. Despite being older, Shouyou had always been the more emotional one among the two, so this shift repulsed him. But he couldn’t bring himself to embrace his younger sister, like he always would. </p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="u"> <b>ON LUCK</b> </span>
</p><p>It wasn’t luck either. Shouyou was always kilometers away from The Lucky Ones; drenched in sticky sweat, breath hot and heavy, crawling with whatever energy remained in his body to stand beside them; stretching his sore fingers, screaming <em> higherhigherhigher </em> when it was time to track their running vertical jump or to hungerly intercept the daunting, opposing spike; peddling up and down unmerciful, Miyagi mountains that cradled the sun at its tip; always looking up, climbing higher and higher, in whatever means necessary, only to be drowned in his shadow.</p><p>It wasn’t luck that built Shouyou, his reputation, or his physique. He was surrendering himself to the harmony. The harmony that called for him each and every day.</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>Even if he was still seen as an outsider, the tourists flocking to the beach—with much clamor, day and night—made him twinge slightly. The sand, white and fine, finding its way through Shouyou’s flip flops. A gradient ocean (color steadily transitioning from green to a midnight blue) positioned with opened arms, hugging the peninsula city, and the skyscrapers, mountain ranges, and people that came with it. Palm trees swaying and flapping their expansive leaves as if fanning the sweat covered skin meters below. The sun beat down kindly for those that could bear it. Brown skin, burnt red skin, ivory skin, ashy black skin, swollen skin, olive skin, custard yellow skin all glistened under a generous layer of funky smelling sunscreen and swimwear fabric. Wet tongues made different sounds, twisted in different ways. During this time Shouyou didn’t have to solely rely on his broken Portuguese, but also his even more broken English. <em> Pizza margherita para Bruno? Mozzarella e azeitona anchovy pizza! Sorry for the delay! Enjoy! </em>The only consensus among these people was that everyone was loud; unison roars at a goal or service ace or dunk. Even the ocean grew quiet around the tourists. Crowds clad in primarily reds, blues, greens, yellows, whites, nationality painted on their face and flags nervously slung around their necks. Hunger, infatuation, pride, loss, faith were the feelings that churned in the eyes of these tourists as they watched their people fight for the gold. </p><p>Heitor jokingly asked who Shouyou was rooting for, <em> Japão ou Brasil </em> <em> ? </em> Shouyou jokingly replied that he hadn’t kept up with any of the games. </p><p>He can’t smell beer without thinking of it. <em> Another service ace! Fantastic! And he’s only nineteen years old — Tobio Kageyama! </em> The broadcaster shouted through the speakers of the bar. He couldn’t remember how long he stood there, one foot on the peddle of his bike, the other supporting his stance. It must’ve been a while because he got scolded for a late delivery of <em> pizza com almondegas. </em> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="u"> <b>ON LONELINESS</b> </span>
</p><p>Being who he was, Shouyou never really knew what true loneliness was; childhood bloomed with playing around with Kouji and Izumi at soccer fields or basketball courts; Natsu was born, and there were a endless ways to stay preoccupied with a baby, toddler, and blooming sister; he had The Team, a unison stench of boyish body odor, hair pressed to their foreheads, and aching limbs; notably, Tadashi, Kei, Hitoka, Tobio, the one’s he shared three years with, the ones shown when he turned his phone on; Kenma was always a phone call away, no matter the time; Pedro had his headphones in all the time, but at least he was other entity in their apartment in the Brazilian <em> favelas </em>. </p><p>Shouyou could really never be lonely, per se. He always had his harmony. Singing in his ears to keep him company</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p><b>ǁ </b> <b>PAUSE</b></p><p>Shouyou gripped his abdomen, as if that would stop its rumbling. The aroma of <em> bolinhos de bacalhau, coxinhas, buñuelos </em>and various other fried street food options called for the boy. But he was tied down by sand coating his feet (and the fact that he lost his wallet hours before). </p><p>It was a typical Friday evening in Rio de Janeiro; trendy pop danced in the breeze, locals of all shapes and sizes hung around the beach that was lit up by street lights reflecting off soaring skyscrapers, the moon was missing, leaving an empty canvas of black as the backdrop to the colorful city. It was the perfect setting for a dream, almost too picturesque. Which was why Shouyou almost didn’t believe his ears when he heard words spoken in his mother tongue. </p><p>“Is this a miracle?” Oikawa-<em> san </em> spoke. In desperate moments, it's almost too easy to clutch on to what's familiar to one. So, they caught up, reasoning behind how they became the Crazy Ones for venturing out into the world. <em> Were they really crazy though? </em> , Shouyou thought. Oikawa- <em> san </em> didn’t think so. They shared a meal, an act of hospitality on Oikawa- <em> san </em> ’s part. They played on the beach until two in the morning; Oikawa- <em> san </em>’s inflated ego and face plants into the sand making Shouyou double over in hysterical laughter. He doesn’t remember when the last time he laughed so hard. They followed the same routine the following night. </p><p>“You good, Sho-<em> kun </em>?” Oikawa asked.</p><p>“I told you,” Shouyou said to him. “I feel fine. Great actually.”</p><p>“Whatever you say, I guess. Just don’t keep sending me nasty tosses.” Shouyou dug the ball that flew to the right corner of their turf. His tank top flew open as he dove, sand scratching and burning his bare torso. Oikawa received it with a spike down to the other side of the court, a line shot that was demanded by gravity. That was their winning shot. </p><p>“Volleyball is fun,” Oikawa-<em> san </em> told Shouyou (or so it seemed). It could’ve been a reminder for himself, or him simply priding his adoration for the sport, or to the stubborn sand that sat and poked the skin in between his toes. He mustn’t have read Shouyou’s mind. Had it shown on Shouyou’s face? It couldn’t have. Shouyou mastered the façade.</p><p> As Oikawa-<em> san </em> pulled themself off the ground, Shouyou stood, wiping the sweat beading above his cupid’s bow. </p><p>“Yeah,” Shouyou finally said, staring past the net, past their opponents, past the vast ocean filling the horizon. The Rio Shouyou knew appeared different that night. Maybe she, too, was slipping through her façade. “Volleyball is fun.”</p><p>Shouyou hadn’t ordered a beer that night. </p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="u"> <b>ON MIRACLES</b> </span>
</p><p>Shouyou was never a religious type of guy; barely attending weekly service with his mother; despised the smell of incense wilting at the local convenience store; threw himself under the sheets without reciting prayers at night; thought it was a waste of time to visit shrines before exam seasons because he was going to fail anyway; never called out to a God before an important match or when he was feeling ill; never blamed anything that had gone wrong on a deity.</p><p>So Oikawa-<em> san </em> appearing in front of Shouyou that one Friday night was not a miracle. A scientific imbalance or the work of a divine agent could not have made the two meet. It must’ve been the harmony. The harmony called for Oikawa- <em> san, </em> too.</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>“How has it been since returning to Japan?” Shouyou couldn’t see exactly who was talking due to the flashing cameras. </p><p>“It’s been great! The team’s been great! It really couldn’t have been a better transition, professionally that is.” Shouyou replied with a wide grin. </p><p>“Oh, would you mind elaborating on that?” A different voice asked this time.</p><p>“Well, you’d think things wouldn’t change so much in two years. I couldn’t even recognize my home town because of all the newly constructed apartments!” Laughter rang through the room. “It’s true! I actually got lost!” He flashed a glance to the, also laughing, Bokuto beside him; the only face he could actually make out in the sea of clicks and flashes. He was glad to be back. </p><p>There was a Karasuno reunion after Shouyou’s debut match with the Black Jackals. Everyone was there, so the meeting only made sense. </p><p>“You look great. I mean a lot happier! It looks great on you!” Shouyou directed towards Tobio while everyone else was preoccupied listening to a story Sugawara was telling with tears of laughter pooling in his eyes. </p><p>“Thanks.” Tobio responded with a small smile after dropping his drink from his lips. “You look like you’re doing fairly well yourself. Harsh sun, huh?”</p><p>“You’d burn to a crisp in a day.” Shouyou raised an eyebrow. </p><p>“Noted.” Tobio shook his head with pursed lips. “I got an offer in Italy. I don’t think the sun’s that bad there.” He continued after a pause. </p><p>“Italy, really? That’s super cool.” Shouyou smiled, genuinely. “If you told me seven years ago that The Kageyama Tobio would <em> willingly </em> leave the country, I would’ve never believed you.”</p><p>“People change okay.” Tobio sourly expressed. </p><p>“Just hit me up when you need an english lesson.” Shouyou winked.</p><p>“Trust me, if I need english lessons, I won't be asking you of all people.” Shouyou laughed, also genuinely, with his mouth at the tip of his glass. Tobio broke into a smile, following, turning his gaze to the rest of the group. It looked like Sugawara’s story was at its tail end.</p><p>*</p><p>The MSBY Black Jackals concluded the 2018-19 season with an 84% win percentage, but lost the title race to Schweiden Adlers three days before the season's end. The following year, Shouyou was determined for that league win. Just before the end (and nonrenewal) of his two year contract, Shouyou and the rest of the team celebrated the Black Jackal’s sixth league title, the first in the last ten years. </p><p>*</p><p>Shouyou remembered the time he practiced with the girls team during middle school. Two girls, the libero and middle blocker, were dressing themselves in their gear before practice. <em> I think I want to go pro, </em> Shouyou overheard one say. <em> I think you should, </em> the other replied. <em> I want to play at the Olympics, you know, but it feels impossible, </em> the first said, unshakably, determined. <em> I’m sure it’s hard, but it’s not impossible </em> , the other reassured. <em> There’s a .0013% chance. I looked it up, </em> Shouyou’s eyes jolted open regardless of it being a number unfathomable to his thirteen year old self. <em> See, I told you it wasn’t impossible, </em> the other said, balancing on the heels of her feet. <em> You’re the impossible one, </em>the first one sourly replied before they both ran onto the court. </p><p>Shouyou thought of these girls, probably now women, the second he received the phone call from his manager. He felt the compulsive urge to buy them gratitude drinks.</p><p>*</p><p> Him and Hoshiumi were being interviewed post their loss to Argentina, both drenched in perspiration and chest heaving. The red jersey stuck on as if it were a second layer of skin.</p><p>“Regardless of the loss, it was an exhilarating match. Truly the best I have felt in a long time.” Hoshiumi answered first, accurately narrating the feelings Shouyou was enduring. He smiled to himself, Shouyou, as he watched Tobio and Oikawa-<em> san </em> conversing in the distance. </p><p>“Hinata-<em> san </em>,” the reporter directed towards Shouyou. “You chose to not extend your contract with the Black Jackals, which is the direction you’re heading for as the new season approaches.”</p><p>Shouyou scanned the arena around him, starting at Bokuto, Sakusa, and Atsumu, his newfound brothers of the past two years, then Ushijima, who had just signed a contract for a Polish team, then Oikawa-san, who perfectly fit in with his Argentinean teammates, doused in a South American sun, a shared secret between the two of them, and Tobio who was now, seriously, studying English. Shouyou took it all in before replying. </p><p>“I’ll go wherever the harmony takes me.” </p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="u"> <b>ON HOME</b> </span>
</p><p>Regardless of the cliché, Shouyou truly believed that home was a feeling, a state of mind, rather than a physical place or location; the way Tokyo stays make him feel estranged; the way a beach volleyball match with the Kitagawa Daiichi Trio oddly tasted like his mother’s signature <em> tamago kake gohan </em>; the way his own childhood home now felt too small to contain him; the way he hunted down Brazilian cuisine whenever visiting a major city in his home country; the way he laughed obnoxiously into the mic while on a karaoke date with Tadashi, Kei, Hitoka, and Tobio. </p><p>Sitting, <em> padmasana </em>, with the Rio sand tickling his toes and the great eastern sun kissing his cheeks, Shouyou could hear the harmony. The harmony called him back home.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>you can find me on <a href="https://twitter.com/adIers20">twitter :P</a></p></blockquote></div></div>
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